Amnesiac's Dream
by AChar
Summary: Harry is hit with a stray curse in DADA, causing him to completely lose his memory. Draco sees his opportunity, and seizes it. Eighth year fic, EWE. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

I think this story will be relatively short.

For story updates and other info, follow me on tumblr (potter-is-mine. tumblr .com)

**-Amnesiac's Dream-**

Chapter 1

It happened when we were in DADA, practicing curses and offensive spell working.

I had been watching Potter, like I always was, as he was sparring with Longbottom.

This was a mistake, as I would have guessed- Longbottom was a walking disaster. But Potter was too kind for his own good, and when Longbottom had been left without a partner for the assignment, none other than the Saviour of the Wizarding World volunteered to partner with his poor, unfortunate soul.

And of course, Longbottom was shit at curses. Well, with aim mostly, but we all thought, "Nothing the Chosen One can't handle."

Until I saw Longbottom shoot a curse at Potter when he wasn't paying attention.

It wasn't on purpose, I'm sure; Longbottom had a bit of a guy crush on Potter, and aside, he didn't have a cruel bone in his poor sodding body.

Potter, oblivious as always, had been looking over at the Weasel, talking about some shit Quidditch game or other, when Longbottom's curse hit.

It wasn't a curse I could identify, nor was it a curse I think Longbottom even meant to fire.

On impact, Potter's eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed like an empty sack of straw. Limp. Lifeless.

Without thought, I abandoned my own partner and sprinted across the room to Potter. Weasley and Longbottom beat me there, both bent over Harry, trying to shake him awake.

"Harry...Harry! Shit, Neville- call Pomfrey...Harry!" Ron shouted as he slapped Potter across the face. I stood there, not sure what I should do, my feet moving nervously.

Neville runs out of the room, gripping his face with anxiety. By now, the entire class, as well as our DADA instructor are leaning over Harry, staring as Ron desperately tries to wake Harry.

I find myself annoyed at them- why are they all staring? Who do they think they are, invading Potter's privacy? Pretending as if they care?

"Get back everyone! Give them some space!" I shout, herding everyone away from Weasley and Potter. The class shuffles back slowly, going back to their seats. Everyone starts to whisper animatedly, pointing at Harry.

Before I blow another fuse, Pomfrey bangs into the room with Neville trailing behind.

"Get back!" She commands, ushering away the last remaining gawkers.

She takes out her wand and casts a levicorpus, Harry's body rising into the air until it hovers in front of her. She rushes out of the room, floating Potter following behind.

Weasley and I are left standing awkwardly, staring at the door through which Potter just vacated.

He turns to me, his brow creased into a slight frown. "Hey… thanks. I didn't think you'd care about all the people gawking."

I just smirked at him. "Don't think too much of it, Weasley."

He frowns, and I walk back to my seat. A few minutes later, the class is dismissed, and I make my way towards the Great Hall, all the while wondering how Potter was doing.

*0*0*0*

That night, after dinner, I sneak out of the Slytherin eighth-year dorms and make my way to the hospital ward.

I sneak in through the heavy doors silently, slipping past the empty beds. I spot Potter and make my way to him, thankful that Pomfrey seems to have already retired for the night.

He is asleep, or still unconscious, his face relaxed.

I notice how peaceful he looks in sleep, untouched by his stupid expressions of annoyance or anger. That's how I usually saw him, anyways. Although, this last year, Potter had been acting almost… kind to me. He wouldn't engage in any stupid arguments, and he had even started saying hello to me in the halls…

I shake off the thought. I can't resist the urge to touch, my hand drifting out towards his face, running one slim finger down the side of his jaw. I had to grudgingly admit he wasn't bad looking, for a bloke. Especially in sleep.

I rip my finger away when he starts to stir, his eyelids fluttering.

"Hmmmmph," he mumbles, stretching his arms above his head. My eyes follow his limbs, drifting down to the slight peek of skin of his stomach. He lowers his arms, and I tear my eyes away.

"Hello," he sighs, his eyes cracking open, looking up at me. A small, almost-smile graces his face, and he looks up at me with bright eyes. The expression on his face is one I'd never seen before, and it freezes me into place. The lack of any hostile emotion that he usually directed towards me was a bit off-putting.

His eyes are huge, looking up at me with such unguarded innocence that it takes me a moment to process his words. I blush when I realize he was still waiting for a response. "Um.. hi." I almost punch myself for sounding so dim. Unsure how to proceed, I ask the most sensible question given our current location. "How are you feeling?" I try to add a certain air of nonchalance to my words, but I can't quite conceal the breathless and mildly unnerved state his eyes have left me in.

"Fine, I guess." He whispers. His smile spreads as he watches me fidget. "What's your name?"

I freeze in shock, sure that he was joking. "What do you mean? I'm Malfoy… you know me, Potter!" I exclaim at the confusion on his face.

"Sorry…I… um, where am I?" The smile has dropped from his face, leaving me oddly disappointed.

"You don't remember?" I ask him, slightly concerned.

He shakes his head. "No… I don't even remember my name, although I would guess it's Potter, as that's what you called me. Unless that's a kinky nickname you have for me?" He asks, his voice changing from confused to sultry. He punctuates his question with a wink.

For a moment my mouth gapes open, disbelieving. Where did this Potter come from? Was my subconscious playing tricks on me, trying to make up for all the years of derisive sneers, and instead delivering a sexy Potter look-alike for my amusement?

I pause before replying. I am about to speak when it hits me- this Potter didn't remember me. He didn't remember anything- anything I'd done. He had no reason to hate me... it was like fate delivered me a clean slate.

I look down into his bright, earnestly green eyes. I could start over with him. Or, the unfailingly Slytherin part of me whispers, I could use this to my advantage. Push my way back into society's graces on nothing but the friendship of Harry Potter himself.

I could have Potter.

He smirks at my pink cheeks.

I smirk at him, thrilled with this opportunity. "No, that would be Potty. You find that particularly sexy in the bedroom."

He laughs out loud, his face alight with happiness. "I'm sure anything you call me is sexy. You are undeniably gorgeous, after all."

My eyes bug out of my head at his point-blank statement. I stutter, at a loss for words. His sexy smirk grows with my discomfort. Apparently Amnesia did incredible things, including turning formerly hot-headed idiots into sex gods.

I am saved from having to reply when Madame Pomfrey bustles out of her office and into the ward. "Mr. Potter! You're awake- Malfoy? What on earth are you doing here? Visiting hours are over! If you are using this as an opportunity to harm Mr. Potter-"

I seize the opportunity. "Just checking up on my boyfriend, of course! I've been worried sick."

The shock registers plainly across her face. "Boyfriend…? I wasn't aware of such a development."

"Oh yes, we've been keeping it a secret from everyone. Don't want the public having a conniption, do we? The Prophet would have a field day." I purr, smirking. I couldn't believe my stroke of luck.

Potter lies wordlessly, not fighting anything I say. He wouldn't, anyways, as he probably believes me as well. He smiles up at me dreamily, however, supporting my claim. I wonder how much of it is an act for Pomfrey. His eyes are much too bright.

Pomfrey sighs, not entirely convinced. "Yes, yes, I'm sure. You must go now, Mr. Malfoy, as I need to give Mr. Potter here an examination."

I nod and turn to go, but a hand on my wrist stops me. "Wait… he can stay. I want him here." Potter says.

My heart stops. I could get used to this.

Pomfrey looks like she is going to argue, but a yawn breaks her harsh stare. "Fine, fine. Let me run some tests and then you must rest." She says exasperatedly.

After she conducts her examination, her face is an odd mix of suspicion, confusion, and sorrow. "Mr. Potter, do you remember anything about yesterday?" She pauses, and Potters expression turns dark.

"I don't remember much of anything, to be honest. I know some things, almost like they're instinctive- I'm eighteen, the war is over- but I don't remember why. I remember most of the war, but faces are blurred. When I first woke up I didn't feel any sense of self, but some of it came back to me. I didn't know who you are, I don't remember-" He's starting to become agitated, so I place a hand on his leg. He stops, looking over at me as if remembering something. He sighs. "I remember you, though."

I freeze, my legs tensing in panic, ready to run.

Potter's face doesn't seem to match up with the expected emotions, though. His face is soft, his eyes warm.

Pomfrey clears her throat. "Your memories may come back, but it will take awhile. I will have the Headmistress come down in the morning to talk to you about… who you are, and anything else you should know that you may not remember. For now, get some rest. You have quite the obstacle in front of you, dear."

She bids us goodnight and heads back to her office, seemingly too exhausted to question my presence again.

Potter's expression slowly morphs into horror, his grasp on my arm vise-like. "I have no idea who I even am." He says hollowly.

I sit on the edge of his bed. "We will get through this. I promise." I give my best effort to be convincing.

He looks up at me, his eyes shining. An unidentifiable affectionate expression crosses his face, tinged with relief.

"Will you stay with me?" He whispers.

I hesitate, looking down at his prone form. "Of course."

He shuffles over, making room for me on the hard cot, and I lie down beside him. He moves closer and buries his face into my chest. My arms circle his body, stiff at first. He sighs contentedly, shivering slightly when I bury my nose into his unruly hair. I am surprised by how soft it is, clean-smelling and fluffy.

"Of course." I whisper, his breathing already evening out in sleep.

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AN: Yay for fluffy cheesiness! Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  
Please follow my tumblr for updates.

-Chapter 2-

The next morning, I wake before Harry. His hand is still clasped tightly around mine, and I pry away his fingers gently, trying not to rouse him.

I slip out of the ward and make my way back to the dungeons. I sneak past the other closed rooms and into my own; I'm thankful that I didn't have any roommates to nose about in my business. I don't have to share a dorm with anyone this year, since I'm one of the only returning eighth-year Slytherins, and for that I am infinitely grateful. Probably the only good thing that came out of me returning this year. Besides this new Potter, of course.

I catch a few hours of sleep before breakfast. When I enter the Great Hall, I sit at the Slytherin table, but no longer am I surrounded by all my friends. None of the other Seventh years from last year returned- they all either went into hiding with their families or just dropped out; everyone knew that no supporter of the Dark Lord would get a job after he was vanquished, so schooling was futile. Only some of the younger students whose families were untouched by the war or the Dark Lord had returned.

My reasons for returning were more… muddled. I wasn't sure why I returned exactly, just that it was the only thing I knew I should do. My father was in Azkaban, my mother a shut-in; what else did I have besides Hogwarts? I knew the likelihood of me getting a job was slim-to-none, but it was the only thing I could think of to do after the war, aside from joining my mother and wallowing in self-pity. I'd already gotten that out of my system in sixth year though, and little good that did me.

So, I sat alone now, a Slytherin king with no one to worship him. I felt better now, though, with less expectations of me and less of a reputation to uphold. I could just be Draco, now. The last Slytherin eighth year standing. The last Malfoy standing, to be honest.

And I was fine being alone. I had been alone my entire life; it had just looked like I had friends. I had kept them around for purely political reasons, and not having any real friends had come back to bite me. I realize this as I munch on a muffin, Slytherins on each side of me beyond a three-foot invisible barrier, none of whom even glance my way.

I wait anxiously as the Weasel and Granger file into the Great Hall, taking their seats at the Gryffindor table. I assume Potter must still be in the infirmary; I start shoving down the rest of the muffin in a hurry to go see him.

My eating is halted when a warm arm slides around my neck, and a pair of lips press into the skin underneath my jaw.

"Morning, beautiful." Potter murmurs against my skin. He slides onto the bench beside me, sitting close. He pulls a plate towards him and starts piling food onto his plate, going for the sugary things first, as usual.

I shoot a quick glance at Granger and Weasley. They had spotted him and are gaping at Harry, their jaws hanging open. The rest of the Hall has started to take a notice as well, turning to stare at us. Harry is oblivious, dipping his finger into a blood-red jam and swirling his tongue around the digit. I look away quickly.

"Um, morning." I mumble. He looks up at me with sleep-clouded eyes and grins sweetly.

"Something wrong?" He asks, taking note of all the staring faces around us. He lowers his hand from his mouth and turns to me.

"Um, yeah, I guess you wouldn't remember. Do you know what house you're in?" I ask him, starting from the beginning of what his memories could be.

"What do you mean? Like Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin?" He says, looking at me thoughtfully. "I... don't know. I don't remember. Does that mean we aren't in the same house?" He asks me, confusion lacing his voice.

"No, this is Slytherin. You're in Gryffindor, over there." I point across the Hall to Granger and Weasley. "And those are your best friends," I add hesitantly.

His eyes widen. "Oh... I didn't think about other friends. I guess it makes sense that I would have them though, and not just you." His brows draw together in contemplation.

I smile at his crinkled brow, amused. "Your other friends don't really like me too much. Haven't since we were kids." I pause, praying he doesn't ask why. I don't mention that before all this, I didn't have anyone. All I had now was him.

"Hm.. alright. Can you introduce me? Or- whatever this would be called?" He asks hopefully.

I scratch my head awkwardly. This was going to be so odd to explain, both to him and to everyone watching.

"Wait, you should probably tell me about them first, so it's not too weird." He says.

"Right." I search through my memory for good things to tell him about the two people I used to make fun of the most. "Um. The ginger one is Ron Weasley. He comes from a large family. They're not very wealthy. That's his sister over there-" I point over at the girl Weasley, "-and she has a bit of a crush on you." True to form, Ginny Weasley looks up and stares over at Harry with a mixture of confusion and longing.

Harry nods, his eyes barely lingering over her, and turns back to me. My stomach flutters with an odd sense of contentment.

"The girl is Hermione Granger. She was born to Muggles." He raises his eyebrow at me, as if questioning if I was going to say anything bad about her family. The look reminded me so much of the old Harry that I pause for a moment. "She's the top of our year, has been all through school. She reads a lot, is very smart, and can be found in the library during most of her free moments of the day."

Harry looks over at them appraisingly, smiling slowly.

"And I think her and the We-" I halt my name-calling and almost panic, hoping Harry had missed my slip-up. He seems to be only half-listening, so I relax. "I think her and Ron are dating or something, but I haven't paid much attention to that, to be honest."

Harry nods, the small smile still on his face. "Okay, I think I'm ready to meet them."

He turns to me expectantly, and I nod and get up, taking his hand.

We walk slowly to the Gryffindor table, all the eyes in the Great Hall on us. Weasley's eyes are wide, his face red, while Granger stares at us warily.

I pull Harry down to the bench across from Granger and Weasley. The four of us sit silently and stare at eachother in turn, before Granger breaks the silence.

"Harry, are you alright? I heard about the accident in Defence, Ron told me."

Harry smiles at her. "I don't remember much of it, to be honest, but I'm fine now. Thanks to Draco, I've transitioned well."

A crease forms between her eyebrows. "That's… nice of Draco. But, transition to what, Harry?"

He looks surprised when he responds, "I thought everyone would've heard already. I guess the spell that hit me was a fluke, and it caused extensive memory damage. I don't know if the memories will return."

Granger's eyes widen impossibly. "Amnesia? Oh my gosh, Harry! I'm so sorry!"

Ron finally breaks his silence, his eyes turning to me angrily. "Why are you here?"

I try to hide my nerves with my usual air of self-importance, feigning confidence.

Harry saves me from having to explain. He leans into me, his arm wrapping around my waist. He leans in and kisses my jaw, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Don't you already know? Draco is my boyfriend. He has been so patient, visiting me in the hospital." I feel my face heat, most likely turning an unattractive shade of pink.

Weasley scoffs, his lips twisting. "Right. Is that what he told you? You aren't even gay, Harry."

Harry raises his eyebrows, but doesn't miss a beat. "Obviously I am, Ron." He turns his eyes to me. "I don't know how to explain it, but it feels as if I've known him forever."

"Because he bullied us-" Ron starts, but stops when Hermione places a firm hand on his arm.

"We're happy with whatever you choose, Harry. Whatever helps you with this new struggle. I'm sure losing your memories must be quite the shocking experience. We're here to help you." She says, staring at Harry intensely, her eyebrows still drawn in.

Ron stays silent the rest of breakfast, staring a hole into Harry's hand, which rests on my hip. I would've laughed if I wasn't feeling so awkward.

After breakfast everyone heads to their first class, while Harry and I make our way back to the infirmary to check in with Madame Pomfrey.

TBC

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Notes:

Please review, let me know if you would like this to continue. I have a rough outline for how I want the story to go (definitely more fluff than plot) but y'all gonna have to bear with me in terms of timely updates. If there's no interest in this story, I won't bother continuing it, ya know?


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